A story on top of a mountain
In a cosmos far away through the void
Dragons of roses carry the branches
In which lies a dried out fountain of gold
A world like ours,
But in this realm there’s only the last minutes
Of a life force traveling through it
The last existence of it finished
Ready to embark on the last trip
A destination unknown to all living,
But common among the dead
A ritual one cannot simply skip
With the happy finger slipping, the last living existence tastes only lead
That’s life; that’s what all the people say right?
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